


The Hardships of Hiding

by Sarah_Black



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Awkward Boners, Awkward Conversations, Desk Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Inappropriate Erections, Joffrey is human garbage, Lingerie, No Underage Sex, Office Sex, Older Man/Younger Woman, Oral Sex, Stannis' eternal awkwardness around women, boner angst, did I mention the awkward conversations?, underage lusting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-29
Updated: 2016-05-09
Packaged: 2018-06-05 05:58:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6692344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarah_Black/pseuds/Sarah_Black
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stannis sees something he wasn't supposed to see.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Not Now, Boner.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BlueCichlid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueCichlid/gifts).



> Thank you [BlueCichlid](http://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueCichlid/pseuds/BlueCichlid) for looking this over for me, giving me such great tips, and for inspiring it in the first place! That scene in [They Lost Their Wolves](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5478686) where Addam Marbrand sees Sansa in the godswoods made me wonder what would happen if Stannis ever accidentally saw something he shouldn't. And then this happened.
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** I am just playing with GRRM's toys. I do not own the characters. I do not make money from this.
> 
>  **Warning:** Joffrey is... Joffrey. Sansa is not physically harmed, but you may want to tread lightly if you have triggers. He is no worse than he is in the canon, however.

Stannis did what he usually did when he was forced to attend one of Robert’s parties. He did the obligatory rounds, shook hands with those it was prudent to shake hands with, had a conversation with Tywin Lannister where they mostly glared at each other, and refused to accept anything alcoholic to drink. After that he retreated to quiet part of the house where he would wait until Robert would be too drunk to notice him leaving.

He ended up sitting in a comfortable armchair in Robert’s study, eyeing the bookshelves that were full of books that looked like they had never been opened.

He had nearly become bored enough to go and pick a book to peruse when he heard the sound of female giggling coming from outside the room. He had left the door ajar, and it was clear that his peace and quiet was about to be disrupted.

Stannis quickly turned off the lamp next to the armchair he was sitting in, plunging his corner of the room into complete darkness. He sat still, feeling a little foolish for hiding, but not really wishing to explain himself to some silly giggling chit.

Two people stumbled into the room. The room was only lit by the faint light streaming in through the gaps in the window curtains, and the light from the hallway, so it was a bit difficult to make out identifying details.

They were young, that much was clear from their behaviour and their carefree movements, and the girl had very long, very shiny hair. She was wearing a dress that shimmered and sparkled in the faint light, and it did little to hide her feminine curves. The boy was blond and in the middle of paying the girl some kind of compliment by the sound of things. He was crooning into her ear, flirting with her and making her throw her head back, smile widely and giggle.

Her movement caused both their features to catch more light and he suddenly recognised them. It was his nephew Joffrey and Sansa Stark.

Sansa’s giggles were like the chimes of silver bells, and she seemed to be enjoying the way his filthy nephew was now pawing at her chest. His opinion of her plummeted. He had always thought she was the least annoying Stark child, but apparently she suffered from an appalling lack of taste.

“I can’t believe I never noticed you before,” Joffrey said, smiling his most charming smile.

“It’s okay,” Sansa whispered, “you noticed me tonight.” The excitement in her tone was clear, and Stannis couldn’t help but feel sorry for her. She clearly had no idea what sort of boy Joffrey was.

Not only was he an _idiot_ for having failed to notice Sansa - even Stannis could tell that she was uncommonly beautiful, and he tended to ignore women - but he was also a vicious little beast. (Stannis would never forget about those poor cats.)

“You’re so beautiful,” Joffrey said, pushing a lock of hair behind one of Sansa’s ears.

Stannis wondered what it might be like to touch her like that for a brief moment, before forcibly shoving the thought to the darkest recesses of his brain. Lusting after teenage girls was not something he did.

“I think you should take your dress off,” Joffrey suggested in a whisper that might have sounded seductive to Sansa. Stannis wouldn’t know. To him Joffrey simply sounded like and arrogant handsome boy, used to getting his way.

“W-What? Here?” Sansa asked, her voice becoming an anxious whisper.

“You want to be my girlfriend, don’t you?” Joffrey asked, “come on, you’re a cool sort of girl, aren’t you?” He reached for her cheek and ran the back of his hand along it.

After that he leant in and kissed her. It was a chaste kiss, and nothing special in Stannis’ eyes, but it was obviously a dream come true for Sansa. She breathed a happy sigh.

“I guess - I guess I could take it off,” she said. The silvery laugh was gone, and she sounded very nervous. Despite her obvious nerves she was squaring her shoulders and straightening her back.

Stannis couldn’t help but admire her bravery, but he was seriously considering an intervention. What Joffrey was demanding was sick. Sansa was only sixteen if he remembered correctly, and probably not mature enough to deal with this situation the way it should be dealt with. Something stopped him, however. Curiosity, perhaps. He wanted to know what she would do. A very bad part of him, the same part that had been noticing how very beautiful she looked, was half hoping she’d take the dress off.

“I’m waiting,” Joffrey said, starting to sound a little impatient.

“Could you - could you close the door?” Sansa requested meekly.

Joffrey shrugged and went to snap the door shut.

Stannis felt frozen in place. Would the poor girl actually do it?

It was even darker in the room now that the light from the hallway was no longer painting a yellow line on the hardwood floor, but Stannis could still see the way the girl was biting her lip. Her eyes were very wide and very blue.

“Come on, gorgeous,” Joffrey said, his tone lazy.

Sansa hurriedly started to push the thin straps of her sparkly party dress off her shoulders, and then she was shimmying, letting the dress travel down the length of her lanky form. Her breasts were bare. They rested high on her chest the way breasts only ever did on very young girls, but they were round and well developed despite her youth. Her stomach was flat and toned, her navel a delicate slit. Her pale skin seemed to _glow_ in the faint light, and when the dress fell to the floor, leaving her in white panties, surprisingly grown-up lace-topped stockings, and sparkly high-heeled shoes.

It was too late to reveal himself now. It would humiliate her if he did.

He tried not to focus on the fact that it would also humiliate _him._ He was embarrassingly hard, and he couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from the pink peaks of her breasts.

Stannis gripped the arms of his chair very tightly and clenched his jaw to prevent any sounds from escaping him. She was the most flawless thing he had ever seen in his life.

“Nice. Take the panties off, too,” Joffrey said, his voice casual. 

It was then that Stannis started to think that there was something _seriously_ wrong with Joffrey. No eighteen year old boy should be able to sound that _bored_ when faced with the vision in front of him.

Sansa was blushing, but she didn’t say anything. She just pushed her panties down, letting them fall to her ankles. She didn’t move to step out of them. All she did was blush and give Joffrey a hopeful look.

There was neatly trimmed triangle of pubic hair on her mound. They looked dark in the faint light, but Stannis was pretty sure they were red just like the hair on her head.

“Disgusting,” Joffrey sneered. “Haven’t you ever heard of waxing, fire-crotch?” He got his phone out and turned the flash on to shine a light on her. “I don’t think my friends have ever seen such a hairy cunt. Mind if I take a picture?”

The shocked look on Sansa’s face made Stannis’ heart contract in his chest. He had to do something. He couldn’t allow this to go on. Sod humiliation. Humiliation was better than allowing Joffrey to hurt her like this.

Before he had a chance to act, however, he heard Cersei’s voice from somewhere beyond the door.

“Joffrey darling, it’s time for the toast!”

Joffrey glanced at the door and then back at Sansa’s naked body. “If you want to be my girlfriend you’re going to have to wax everything off. And lose some weight, you fat cow,” he said, turning on his heel and leaving her alone. He didn’t bother to close the door behind him, leaving it thrown wide open.

Sansa whimpered, and Stannis could clearly see the tears in her eyes. 

He stood up as soon as Joffrey’s footsteps had faded out of hearing range and took his jacket off.

Sansa’s head had snapped around as soon as she had heard him move, and she gasped at the sight of him.

He tried to smooth his face out, knowing that his customary scowl was probably not very reassuring, and hastily closed the distance between them so he could wrap his jacket around her shoulders. He tried not to let his hands linger on her despite the temptation, and he managed to avoid touching her bare skin.

She started to cry.

Fuck. He had no training for this. He had decided not to get married for a reason, despite the way his brother had tried to push that horrible Florent woman on him. Women were just too… complicated. And they never seemed to like him very much. Or behave in a logical way.

“Don’t cry,” he tried, hoping that she would just do as she was told. He had retreated from her as soon as he had managed to cover her up. His cock was still harder than it had ever been in his life. It was horribly awkward.

Sansa kept crying. Her shoulders were shaking and tears poured from her eyes, creating streams and rivulets of black mascara on her cheeks.

“Ssh,” he said, “he’s gone. It’s over.”

Sansa hiccoughed and crouched down to pick up her panties. They were still around her ankles as she hadn’t stepped out of them, so it was easy for her to just pull them up her legs and back into place. Stannis tried not to watch, but his eyes were ignoring the commands his brain were sending them. Or perhaps they were just listening to commands sent from a different part of his body.

“I thought he li-liked me,” Sansa cried, crouching down again to find the pool of fabric that was her dress. She rose up with the material in her hands, but she made no move to put the dress back on. Perhaps she did not think she’d be able to do it without flashing him.

“I can turn around. Or leave,” he offered.

“No, I - I don’t want to be alone.” Sansa sniffled and wiped her cheeks with the back of one hand. Stannis suddenly wished he were the sort of man who carried a handkerchief in case he ran into damsels in distress, but he really wasn’t. He just stood and watched as she tried - unsuccessfully - to get rid of the mess she had made of her eye makeup.

“I could go and get someone for you. Your mother?” Stannis said, feeling increasingly awkward about staying in Robert’s study with this gorgeous, vulnerable, and near-naked _teenager._

_Go away, erection. Please go away._

… and now he was talking to his cock. Great.

“Did you see everything? Did you hear what he said?” Sansa asked, ignoring his offer to go and fetch someone more skilled at comforting her and less likely to start breathing heavily like a pervert at the thought of her naked body.

“Yes. I did not intend to, but yes,” he confessed stiffly, hoping she would not start crying again.

“It’s okay, I know you weren’t trying to sneak a peek. We sort of just burst in here without checking whether anyone was already here. Although why were you sitting in the dark?”

“Er…”

“Sorry, that’s none of my business. But can I ask you something?”

He was relieved that she was changing the subject from why he had been sitting by himself in the dark that he immediately agreed to let her ask her question.

“Do you think I should, um, you know, get waxed? And lose weight?” She was blushing again and biting her lip. There was such an anxious look in her eyes that Stannis felt completely disarmed. 

“Don’t be absurd,” he snapped, regretting his tone at once when he saw her flinch. He did his best to remember how Davos always spoke to his sons and tried to emulate that gentle tone when he continued. “There is nothing wrong with the way you look.”

Sansa looked at him, and there was something _shattered_ in her entire expression. “Really? You don’t think… I’m disgusting?” Her voice was a tremulous whisper, and her eyes were still glassy with tears.

Seven buggering hells. It was a struggle not to lean down and kiss her. Or hug her. _Something._

“You are the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen,” he heard himself whisper, his voice hoarse and raw. He hadn’t meant to say it. Not really. He just couldn’t bear the thought of this gorgeous girl giving Joffrey’s words a second thought. He had seen Sansa perhaps once or twice a year since she had been born, and she had always been a well put together, pretty sort of girl. She had never seemed to lack for confidence in her looks or her abilities. He hated the thought that Joffrey had been able to tear that poise to pieces with a few cruel words.

“Really?” she repeated. The shattered look in her eyes fading away to be replaced by hope and something else he wasn’t sure he could name. “You think I’m beautiful?”

His cock twitched and he swallowed a few times, feeling a little like he had accidentally sailed into much deeper waters than he should have.

“It’s just a fact,” he said, trying to take refuge in his usual brusque manner.

For some reason Sansa seemed exceedingly pleased with his answer. “Thank you.” She smiled at him, polite and sincere. The epitome of a well brought up girl, except for the fact that she was wearing pretty much nothing but his suit jacket.

“You look nice in just a shirt,” she added shyly. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you without a jacket.”

“Don’t you want to put your dress back on?” Stannis asked, feeling flustered at the compliment and needing to steer the direction of the conversation away from himself.

“Oh, sorry. I suppose you want your jacket back.”

He nodded. “I’ll turn around.”

It was harder than he expected to take his eyes off her, but he did it. He spent the next few seconds listening to fabric rustle as Sansa dressed herself.

“You can look,” Sansa said. She was wearing her dress again - a pretty sparkly little thing that showed a generous amount of cleavage and even more of her back - and holding his jacket in her hands. Their eyes met, and she smiled at him, her previous distress apparently far from her mind.

In a flash she had put his jacket on and buttoned it at the front. “How do I look?” she asked, her tone playful.

The resilience of teenagers. Stannis almost shook his head at the rapid about-face she had just performed. One might think she hadn’t just spent several minutes crying.

“Like you’re wearing a jacket that doesn’t fit,” he deadpanned.

“I bet I look chic.”

Stannis shrugged, feeling a little helpless. He had never understood fashion. It seemed utterly pointless to him.

“Give it back,” he said, ignoring that fact that he sounded a bit like a petulant child.

“But I’m cold,” Sansa said, pouting now.

Stannis blinked, feeling thoroughly confused. What did she want him to do? Tell her that she could keep it? Escort her back to the party with mascara all over her face and wearing his jacket and expect everyone to just shrug and act like everything was normal?

“You should have brought your own, then,” he snapped, “please return my property.”

Sansa gave him an incredulous look that he saw quite often when he attempted to speak to women. It was a look that asked whether he had really just said that, and it never ceased to frustrate him.

“Okay,” she said, still looking at him like he was a puzzle she couldn’t quite figure out. “Here you go.” She took off the jacket and handed it over, hugging herself as soon as her hands were free.

Fuck. Was she actually cold? Should he offer to give it back? No, that would be ridiculous.

“I have to go,” he said after a moment of staring at her. He needed to find the nearest washroom and convince his idiotic erection to go away. Thankfully she did not seem to have noticed it even though his suit trousers weren’t doing much to hide his shame. “You should - er - you should probably wash you face before you go back to the party,” he added, hoping to help her avoid some uncomfortable questions.

With that he turned on his heel and fled the room.


	2. Prey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to Blue for looking this over for me. Also for convincing me to make this story a little longer. It does mean that there won't be any smut until chapter three, but what is smut without a good build up to it, eh?

It had been three years since Stannis had seen Sansa Stark, and the events of that particular evening still haunted his dreams. How often had he woken up in a sweat, hard and aching due to the memory of her gorgeous breasts, her pink nipples, and that perfect triangle of close-cropped curls?

Much more often than he would ever admit.

He had taken to avoiding events where he might be in danger of running into her, but tonight’s party was not something Robert would allow him to bow out of. It was a party to celebrate the fact that Ned Stark had been hired as vice president of Baratheon Enterprises.

It had been a bitter pill to swallow when Robert had decided to hire his old friend instead of Stannis, but Stannis had long since got used to swallowing bitter pills. What was one more insult? What did it matter that he had given his life to the company, practically running it in Robert’s place since they were young men? What did it matter that Stannis had always put the needs of the company ahead of his own desires, doing everything in his power to keep Robert’s poor management choices from plunging them into bankruptcy?

Stannis took a deep breath. There was no point grinding his teeth over the matter. It was done.

It was done, and Stannis would go to tonight’s party, toast Ned Stark’s health and try to avoid his uncomfortably arousing teenage daughter. That was all there was to it.

Easy.

***

Stannis was trying to appear calm and collected. Ned still hadn’t arrived, and neither had his family, and it was both a good thing and a bad thing. It was good because it meant that Stannis might be able to finish making the obligatory rounds and find a place to hide before they got to the party, but bad because he kept having to check the door to make sure they hadn’t arrived yet.

He went to the bar and asked for a glass of tap water. No ice.

“Afraid of ordering a man’s drink?” a familiar cold voice asked.

Stannis turned to his side and glared. Tywin Lannister was nursing a glass of amber liquid. No ice in his glass either.

“Mr. Lannister,” Stannis said, jerking his head in acknowledgment, “have a good evening.”

Stannis had planned to abscond after that. Staring Tywin down would have to wait until a better time.

“I know it was you,” Tywin said. There was something a little ominous in his tone that made Stannis stay put.

“I’m afraid you’re going to have to make yourself more clear,” Stannis said, scowling at Tywin.

“I know it was you who had Joffrey thrown out of King’s University,” Tywin clarified, shooting Stannis an icy look.

Stannis continued to scowl, careful to betray nothing. “Why would I do that?”

“If I knew I would have buried you already. A Lannister always pays his debts.”

Stannis didn’t say anything. He just narrowed his eyes and wished it were possible to murder someone with a glare.

“I have my suspicions about the fight that led to his expulsion, too,” Tywin added coolly.

Stannis might or might not have made that fight happen. He very carefully kept his scowl in place, betraying nothing. If he had arranged the fight, and if it somehow became known that he arranged it, there would be some severe consequences. Stannis could not bring himself to care, however. If he went down for arranging the fight - allegedly - his only regret would be not having been there to punch Joffrey in the face himself.

“You know perfectly well that your beastly grandson does not need help when it comes to making people want to punch him in the face,” Stannis said flatly.

Tywin clenched his jaw. Stannis hoped he was thinking about the time when Tyrion backhanded the little cunt at a dinner party.

“Be that as it may, it was quite… convenient that Clegane stepped out for just long enough to allow those young men to start throwing punches.”

“I’d say it was very _inconvenient_ for Joffrey,” Stannis said, “after all, if Clegane had been there to do his fighting for him, he wouldn’t have started waving that _illegal_ gun about.”

“Indeed,” Tywin said. His tone was no longer cool; it was as freezing as the arctic winter.

Their eyes locked for a long moment, each man refusing to look away or even blink.

Eventually Tywin raised his glass in a mocking toast, finished the rest of his drink in one sip, and put the glass down on the bar with an elegant movement.

Stannis didn’t drink from his own glass or raise it in return. He just glared at Tywin’s form as the older man walked away with the sort of loping grace that befitted a lion.

_Evil old git._

Stannis finished his water and left the glass standing on the bar. Perhaps he should make sure his brother was not making a fool of himself…

It was never hard to find Robert at a party. One just needed to follow the sound of his booming laughter.

“And then the agent asks: ‘what do you call yourselves?’ and the father says -” Robert paused to build a bit of anticipation, obviously about to deliver the punchline to some joke. “The father says: ‘We’re the Aristocrats!’”

Some of the people around Robert burst into laughter, but some looked faintly queasy. Robert laughed more loudly than anyone, shaking with mirth. Once he recovered he spotted Stannis and clapped him on the back.

“Stannis!” he said, “how’s it going?”

“Fine,” Stannis bit out.

“You haven’t seen Ned, have you?” Robert asked, looking around as if he expected Ned to be hiding behind Stannis’ back.

“No.” Thankfully Ned had yet to arrive.

“Oh, never mind. There he is!”

Stannis nearly snapped his neck when he turned to verify Robert’s words.

Robert was quite correct. Ned had just arrived. Catelyn by his side, looking resplendent in a deep blue gown, and Robb following in their wake.

Stannis stopped breathing for a moment when Sansa entered the room a few paces after Robb. She had somehow managed to grow even more beautiful in the three years since he had seen her last. Her face had got longer and sharper, and she moved with the grace of a woman without a hint of of teenage ungainliness. Her hair was a glossy sheet of perfection, her skin milk-white and smooth, and her clingy dove grey dress hugged her breasts in a way that made them seem like they were just _begging_ to be fondled. (More accurately, they seemed to be doing their very best to tempt him to bury his face between them, but that was neither here nor there.)

She had not seen him yet, and he breathed a sigh of relief when she and Catelyn went to put their wraps away in the cloak room. Ned and Robb headed straight for Robert, however.

“The man of the hour!” Robert exclaimed, his voice resounding through the entire room.

There was much shaking of hands and slapping of backs. Ned looked a bit embarrassed. Robb looked amused.

Robert started talking but Stannis didn’t pay attention to what his brother was saying. He was eyeing the cloak room and wondering how much time he had until Sansa emerged again. He both wanted to see her again and not.

When Robert mentioned Sansa’s name Stannis started paying attention again.

“Such a shame that it didn’t work out between Sansa and Joffrey,” Robert was saying, looking wistful, “I know we’re practically brothers, and having you as my vice president will be brilliant, but I always rather hoped we’d really be family one day.”

Stannis couldn’t help the derisive snort that escaped him.

Ned gave him a curious look.

“Do you have something to say?” Robert asked, looking affronted. “Out with it!”

“Joffrey is not fit to marry a sewer rat,” Stannis said coldly, “much less a Stark.”

“Oy,” Robert said, glaring halfheartedly at him.

“Why do you say that?” Ned asked mildly.

“Never mind,” Stannis bit out, looking back towards the cloak room. Catelyn and Sansa had emerged. Sansa was scanning the room.

Their eyes met. He was fairly far away and there was a crowd, but somehow she had managed to zero in on him at once. As soon as she saw him an unsettling gleam appeared in her eyes. It put him in mind of the old Stark coat of arms. 

A wolf on the prowl.

Stannis was not accustomed to feeling like prey. He hurriedly looked away from her, and did his best to get lost in the crowd, not bothering to make his excuses to his brother or Ned. But he wouldn’t be able to go and hide quite yet. He still needed to shake hands with a few more people.

He was in the middle of doing a poor job of masking his distaste for Olenna Tyrell - _interfering old hag_ \- when he saw Sansa again. She was closer than she had been before, and her beauty even more noticeable. She was still looking at him rather like she was undressing him with her eyes. Or as if he were a steak she quite wanted to tear into.

“Are you quite all right?” Olenna asked, not sounding very concerned. In fact, she sounded intrigued. She followed his gaze and raised an eyebrow.

“Fine,” Stannis said. He did not feel fine. He felt unnerved. “I have to go - er - over there,” he said, unable to come up with a good excuse to bow out of the conversation.

Olenna’s eyes filled with amusement, but she didn’t attempt to prevent him from leaving her company.

Once he had moved as far away from the place he had last seen Sansa standing in as he could, he examined the faces around him, wondering if there was anyone there he still needed to greet.

He was surrounded by Florents. He grimaced and made his way over to Randyll Tarly and his wife. Hopefully this conversation would not last long. Tarly always ended up complaining about his ‘useless son’, and Stannis had no patience for it. From what Tarly had said in the past, it seemed to Stannis that Samwell was a much more sensible person than his father had ever been.

Stannis had only just finished shaking hands when he spotted her again. Closer than ever. Watching him.

No. _Stalking_ him.

Feeling relieved that he was not known for being very polite, Stannis abruptly ended the conversation with Tarly before it even began and fled.

There had to be a place where he could get away from Sansa.

He closed his eyes and concentrated. Yes. There was a secluded balcony somewhere nearby. He just needed to find it.

Looking for the balcony and trying to make sure Sansa wasn’t following him had his heart pounding, and his heart rate sped up even further out of sheer excitement when he finally spotted it. He looked around before he went outside; he could not see Sansa anywhere. Hopefully she would not find his hiding place.

He left the door ajar so he wouldn’t get trapped outside and started to pace around, willing himself to calm down.

Stannis’ heartbeat had only just gone back to normal when the door slowly opened a bit further and Sansa walked through it.

His heart started to pound again.

She strode confidently towards him, and Stannis was struck by how vastly different she seemed compared with the girl he had wrapped in his jacket three years ago. There was nothing shattered about her.

The creature that was approaching him was _fierce._

“What are you doing here?” Stannis asked, wanting to stop her in her tracks. She was already much too close.

“Searching for you,” she said, giving him an unreadable look.

Now that she was right _there_ , he could barely think. All he could do was drink her in and inhale her scent.

Seven hells, but he wanted her.

“Why?” he bit out, trying to keep calm.

“I’ve been wanting to thank you for what you did three years ago since it happened, but I haven’t been able to find you.” The predatory gleam in her eyes was even more pronounced up close.

“You don’t need to thank me,” he snapped, feeling awkward, uncomfortable and incredibly grateful that at least he wasn’t painfully erect.

“Yes I do,” Sansa argued, her voice calm but determined. “If you hadn’t been there, and if you hadn’t said what you said, I might actually have walked out of that study thinking that Joffrey was right. I might have tried to keep chasing after him and trying to gain his approval. You made me realise that there were other people in the world whose opinion I should much rather listen to.” Sansa paused briefly, looking him straight in the eyes. “I ended up feeling confident that night instead of humiliated, and that would not have happened without you.”

Stannis didn’t know whether to feel flattered or exasperated.

Still, there was something very... charming about the way she was trying to explain that he had helped her come to the realisation that all people must come to at some point in their youth: that opinions are only opinions, and that it is important to be very selective about whose opinions one listens to.

“Er, all right,” he muttered, not knowing what she wanted him to say.

“Do you still think I’m beautiful?” Sansa asked, tilting her head to the side.

Stannis took a step back, and ended up bumping into the balustrade. Sansa followed and stood mere inches from him, looking up at him with hooded eyes.

“I think you’re handsome,” she whispered.

Before he could say or do anything to stop her, she had wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him.

Her lips were quite possibly the softest things that he had ever been touched with, but he had a feeling that her uncovered breasts might give her lips a run for their money if the feel of them through their clothes was anything to go by.

It was a Herculean task, but he managed to push her away after a few seconds of bliss.

“What are you doing?” he asked her, trying to sound stern but not succeeding completely. His heart was still pounding.

“I want you to take me to bed,” Sansa said, her eyes flashing with desire.

His cock gave an interested twitch.

 _No,_ he thought at the infernal thing between his legs. _Don’t you dare._

“Please,” she added. There was something very _studied_ about the way she pitched her voice. Like she had practised saying please in just the right way.

“You’re too young,” he choked out.

“I’m nineteen. It’s perfectly legal.”

“It’s not _ethical._ ”

“I don’t care. I want you.” She was pouting, and pressing her body against his again. Again he got the feeling that she knew _exactly_ what she was doing.

It really was a miracle that he wasn’t hard. Her breasts felt divine against his chest, and his hands were itching to grab her arse and pull her even closer to his groin.

“Sansa,” he said, trying to warn her off.

“Stannis,” she said in return, her voice a mixture of childish petulance and a young girl’s (much too successful) attempt at sounding breathlessly sexy.

Stannis noticed a movement out of the corner of his eye. Someone was coming.

“What do I have to do to get you to leave me alone for the rest of the night?” he asked, suddenly panicking at the thought that someone - Ned Stark? Tywin Lannister? Seven hells, _his brother?_ \- might catch them in this intimate pose.

“Give me your address and promise to let me into your apartment if I come by later,” Sansa immediately said, triumph in her eyes.

His cock twitched again. _Stop._

“Fine,” he bit out. He’d let her in and then throw her right back out after giving her a firm talking to.

Really.


	3. Now, Boner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, all my thanks go to Blue for kicking me in the ass when my writing is lazy and making this story make a bit of sense. She's the best! ♥

Stannis hadn’t counted on Sansa arriving at his apartment wearing a cliché. 

He hadn’t really known what to expect, so he had dressed in the same suit he had worn to Robert’s party. It felt safer to wear his… armour.

“Hi,” Sansa said, sauntering inside as if she owned the place, dressed in a coat that she was unbuttoning with nimble fingers.

“Hello,” he said reflexively, his eyes fixed on her hands.

When her hands went still, all the buttons undone but her coat still closed, he looked at her face. She met his eyes boldly and gave him a small smile.

The coat dropped to the floor and Stannis’ mouth dropped open.

Did this sort of thing happen in real life? Did women really put on scandalous lingerie and then make house calls with nothing but outerwear on to cover themselves?

He couldn’t stop himself from letting his eyes take everything in. What she was wearing was all black, all lace, all perfectly fitted and doing a damn fine job of putting Sansa’s breasts and thighs on display. He wasn’t entirely sure what the brassiere that she was wearing was called, but perhaps a bustier? It was almost like a corset, but it did not seem to be making it difficult for her to breathe judging by the way her chest was moving unhindered.

He remembered noticing the lace-topped stockings she had worn three years ago. They must have been the sort that stayed up on their own. Right now she was wearing the sort of stockings that had seams at the back and were held up by an old fashioned garter belt.

It really was as if she had stepped out of an old film noir.

His mouth went completely dry and everything he had planned to say to convince her to leave vanished from his mind.

“Do you want a kiss?” she asked, the wolfish gleam back in her eyes. She knew she had caught him -- caught her prey.

He nodded. He really, _really_ wanted to kiss her.

“Good,” she said, white teeth flashing.

A second later her arms were around his neck and his hands were at her waist and their mouths were lining up -- a little awkwardly at first because he didn’t know she was going to go left, so he went left, but eventually they figured it all out.

Her tongue tasted like the nectar of the gods in his mouth. He didn’t mind that there was really no finesse to the way she was kissing him, and that she was getting saliva all around his lips. He just kissed her sloppily in return, feeling drunk for the first time in years.

She steered him over to his own couch until the back of his knees hit the side. She took a step back from him and looked around.

“You have a really nice apartment.”

Stannis followed her eyes as she took in the open plan of the space, the high ceiling and the furniture he had chosen because it looked like it wouldn’t break if Robert ever came for a visit. Renly had rolled his eyes and asked whether he was compensating for something with all the dark masculine pieces, but Stannis had ignored him. He had seen Renly’s apartment, and they had vastly different tastes when it came to interior design.

Distracted by his thoughts, Stannis was taken by surprise when Sansa gave him a firm push and caused him to fall backwards onto the sofa. He ended up sprawled over the length of it, but Sansa didn’t give him a chance to scowl at her for causing him to do something so undignified. She was on top of him almost as soon as he fell over, kissing him again and making him forget all about the indignity she had just made him suffer.

He groaned when she moved to lick and kiss his neck, and let his hands roam over her back when they weren’t buried in her long hair. She smelled _wonderful._

“Do you want me to kiss you somewhere else?” she offered after a while, giving him a playful look.

“Okay,” his reptile brain answered for him; the idea of her giving him a blowjob effectively shutting off all higher brain function.

They ended up sitting up on the sofa, the leather creaking as they moved around. She slid to the floor after a moment and he automatically spread his thighs to accommodate her between them, wondering for a moment if she’d done a lot of this sort of thing. It was difficult to convince his more intelligent parts to wake up with Sansa kneeling between his knees and looking up at him. But he really should talk to her before she did this, shouldn’t he? 

Besides, he was still completely limp despite the highly erotic visual she was providing him with, and despite all the kissing and touching they had already done. Talking would buy him a little time to wake up.

“Have you - have you done this before?” he asked, swallowing as she undid his belt for him.

“Yes,” she said, pausing her work for a moment to give him a look he couldn’t read. “I’ve been in two relationships. Do you want details?”

No. He really didn’t want to think about her with some other man. He wasn’t upset that she had experience, in fact it came as a bit of a relief, but just like he never really wanted to think about his brother having sex, he didn’t really want to think about the ‘details’.

“Er, that’s all right. You don’t have to tell me anything.”

Sansa looked pleased with his answer and went right back to undoing his fly. She looked surprised when she finished getting his underwear out of the way and saw that he wasn’t hard.

 _Any time now would be good,_ he thought at his cock, feeling a little emasculated.

The surprised look vanished from Sansa’s features and she simply moved forward, bringing her lips to his groin. She licked his abdomen below his navel, avoiding the dark hairs that trailed down towards his cock, and looked up at him a little curiously. He looked back, and for a moment he wondered what he looked like to her. Did he look as helpless as he felt?

When she started to suck on the flaccid flesh, her mouth hot and her hands stroking him in just the right way, he started to feel really concerned. _Why wasn’t he getting hard?_

He tried to close his eyes and think of something erotic, but he couldn’t really think of anything that was more arousing than what was happening to him right now.

_What the fuck was wrong with him?_

“I’m sorry, I - I don’t know what’s going on. This has never happened before,” he said, feeling his face heat up as Sansa released his unruly body part and looked up at him.

“Oh,” she said, furrowing her brow. “Am I not doing it the way you like it done? I could try something different if you want?”

“It’s not you, you're doing it completely right,” he said, wincing at the clichés that just kept spewing forth out of his mouth like some sort of verbal vomit. “You're not - I mean - I’m - I’m very attracted to you.”

His face felt very warm as he took over and tried to use his hand to wake himself up, using every trick that usually worked. Sansa watched with interest, but it felt like pressure, and it was just _stressful._

He dropped his hand and took a deep breath.

Why wasn’t he using this as an excuse to kick her out? It was the right thing to do. He should not be messing around with her like this. It was wrong, and morally bankrupt, and perverted, and -

“I could do something for you?” he offered, making it sound like a question.

“Like what?” she asked, looking intrigued and rather pleased.

He shrugged. “Use my hands. My mouth.”

Sansa’s face pinkened with desire, and her eyes darkened. She nodded eagerly. He wondered for a moment if the men she had been in relationships with had used their mouths on her. Surely she couldn’t be that excited just at the idea of _him_ doing it?

He stood up and held onto his trousers so they wouldn’t fall down. He used his other hand to help Sansa to her feet.

His heart beat wildly in his chest as he led her to his bedroom, and he kept wondering the whole time whether he was hammering the nails into his own coffin.

“Oh, I like the fireplace,” Sansa said, looking around his bedroom with interest.

“It’s not really a proper one,” he said, thinking of the huge fireplaces at Storm’s End. This one was really just for show. He liked looking at fire sometimes.

He went over the impractically large windows and started to draw the curtains shut. They were very high up, and it wasn’t likely that anyone would be able to see inside the bedroom, but he thought Sansa would appreciate more privacy nonetheless.

“Leave them open,” she said, apparently not wishing for more privacy after all. “I like the view.”

If he were the sort of man who said clever things he might have told her that he liked the view, too. Except he’d be looking at her, and not out the window. The words got stuck in his throat as he watched her start to strip.

There were ribbons that criss-crossed up and down the front of her bustier, and she tugged them loose, opening the garment as if she were unwrapping a present. Stannis started to breathe very loudly when her breasts were revealed, and his eyes watered a little because he wouldn’t let himself blink.

And yet, his cock remained resolutely limp. _Seven fucking hells._

The bustier fell to the floor and Stannis’ breathing was rapidly getting out of control. He gripped the back of a nearby chair and tried not to pant when she bent over to release the stockings from the straps of her garter belt. She rolled each stocking downwards, her hair cascading over one shoulder as she worked, until both her legs were bare.

She straightened up and looked him in the eyes as she unhooked her garter belt and let it drop to the floor.

He had a very vivid flashback when she pushed her panties down and let them fall to the floor, too. This time she stepped out of them instead of leaving them around her ankles like she had in Robert’s study, and he shook his head a little, trying to bring himself back to the present. Sansa was not sixteen anymore.

She was naked in front of him, the city lights from outside his window illuminating her pale skin, and there was something completely different about the way she held herself when compared with his memories of three years ago. There was nothing nervous or unsure about her.

He had never been this aroused without his cock becoming erect. It was bizarre.

“Lie down,” he instructed when she raised an eyebrow at him, an unspoken ‘well?’ in her eyes. She nodded and did as he asked.

His cock gave a feeble twitch at the sight of her naked and on his bed, but remained stubbornly limp.

 _Why?_ he mentally shouted at the stupid thing. _Why would you do the opposite of what I want you to do?_

With an internal sigh he turned his attention to the much more pleasant task of pleasuring Sansa. He wasn’t exactly experienced when it came to the art of getting a woman off, but he had done it a handful of times, and he felt confident that he would be able to make the trip to his apartment worth her while.

Feeling like he ought to say something, he sat down next to her and tried to come up with something appropriate. “Beautiful,” he said at length, wishing that his voice could have sounded a bit more steady. He moved to settle himself between her thighs, still wearing his trousers with the fly undone.

Sansa spoke while he was still trying to get into position. “I like your chest,” she said, her voice much steadier than his had been, “you’re so _hard._ ” She had risen up a little and reached to trail her fingers from his pectorals and down towards his navel. She seemed very pleased by the dark hair that grew all over his front.

 _I’m not hard where I want to be hard,_ he thought, feeling decidedly grumpy about the matter.

“Spread your thighs a little more,” he whispered, trying very hard not to sound the way he did when he barked orders at his underlings at work.

Sansa complied at once.

“Don’t be afraid to tell me if I do something you dislike,” he said, “I assure you, my feelings won’t get hurt.”

Sansa smiled and nodded. She looked like she was exactly where she wanted to be. With him, on his bed. _Fuck._

He started by using his hands. Just letting her get familiar with the way he touched. He watched her, trying to read her expression and figure out what she liked.

She didn’t like being poked too hard or rubbed forcefully. (He shot her an apologetic look when she flinched and asked him to be gentler.)

She liked the soft touch. She liked it when he was stroked carefully and when he used the pads of several fingers all at once to rub the softest of circles.

It was absurd how wet she was getting.

After a little while she started to whimper and squirm, pressing herself against his hand and whining for more. He obliged her by pushing a finger inside. She was hot and slick and silky soft. His cock gave another feeble twitch.

 _Yes,_ he thought, _if you get hard you might actually get to go in there. Wouldn’t that be exciting?_

His cock twitched again, but nothing more than that.

 _Useless,_ he thought with disgust.

Trying to distract himself, he asked Sansa whether she liked what he was doing.

“Yes,” she said, sounding very pleased. 

Of course she was pleased. Why wouldn’t she be pleased? She didn’t have a completely stupid body part that refused to be a team player.

Stannis looked at Sansa’s face and started to drag his finger in and out of her while rubbing her the way she seemed to enjoy with his other hand. She had her eyes closed and her lips parted, making him remember what it had been like to have them around his cock and curse himself once again for his utterly stupid inability to get hard. Her cheeks were flushed and she was breathing more heavily by the minute.

He curled his finger inside of her, wondering if he’d be able to make her gasp.

“Oh! _Stannis!_ ” Her entire body twitched as if he had touched her with a live wire.

He kept at it, steadily working her towards an orgasm and watching her reactions greedily.

There was nothing girlish about the moans she made when she came. They were pure sin, and finally, _finally_ his cock started to wake up.

He moved his hands to her breasts, tweaking her nipples and wetting them with her own juices before bending forward to lick at them in turn. He listened to her voice and the way her breathing hitched and quickly found out that she liked fast little flicks of his tongue or slow firm licks. She didn’t like it when he sucked too hard or nibbled on them. 

The musky taste he had smeared all over her nipples was long gone - licked clean - and he found himself wishing to lap it up from the source.

Giving her wonderfully soft breasts a parting squeeze, he moved down towards her thighs, burying his face between them without so much as a by-your-leave.

He hadn’t done this very often as it really wasn’t all that pleasant, but he found that he rather enjoyed doing this for Sansa. She was gasping and moaning very enthusiastically already, and though she had retained the pretty red curls that decorated her mound, the skin around her folds was mostly bare. The taste of her was sharp and rich, and he found himself poking his tongue inside of her to try to get _more._

When she started to sob with pleasure and attempt to hug his head between her thighs, he found himself becoming fully hard at long last.

_She wanted this. She was enjoying herself._

“Are you on birth control?” he asked hoarsely, looking up at her after he finished licking her through her aftershocks.

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Good. I’d like to fuck you now.”

Sansa was already fairly flushed, but he watched the colour in her cheeks deepen, and the look of lust in her eyes intensify before she nodded. “By all means,” she whispered.

She watched with interest as he rose up and discarded the rest of his clothes, and felt a thrill of masculine pride when her eyes widened a little at the sight of his fully erect cock.

“I haven’t done this in a while,” she said in a steady voice, “could you go slow?”

“Slowly,” he corrected absently, “yes, of course.”

Sansa blinked in astonishment for a moment. She shook her head slightly. A smile hovered about her lips.

He guided her into a position beneath him that he knew ought to be comfortable for her - managing to keep from accidentally putting his hand down on her hair for the most part - and steered the head of his cock to her beautifully wet entrance.

“You can tell me to stop at any time,” he told her, pleased to hear that he sounded serious and not at all strained, “I promise I will respect your wishes.”

Sansa grabbed his arse and pulled him towards her. She seemed to know exactly what she wanted.

Her movements caused the head to slip inside, and _fuck_ she was tight. Pushing in further - slowly, just as he had promised - just made him wonder if he was hurting her. He had never been with a woman who felt quite like this.

“Is it - is it okay?” he panted, almost unable to talk due to the intense pleasure he was experiencing.

“It’s good,” she moaned, “it’s _really_ good.”

“Sure?” he managed, practically gasping the word out as he held himself back from starting to thrust.

“Yes, you can move.”

He took her at her word and pulled out just far enough so he’d be able to try an experimental thrust back in.

“Ah!”

It sounded like the good kind of ‘ah’. He tried it again and got the same result.

Soon he managed to establish a rhythm that had her gasping every time he sheathed himself to the hilt with a satisfying smack.

When he felt close he rose up and pulled her legs along, making her point them straight up and rest them against his chest. This position felt good for him and allowed him to go as fast as he wanted. It also seemed to be working for Sansa as she was already clenching up and keening, her voice doing wonders for his ego.

He moved his hips faster and faster, getting lost in Sansa’s voice and the sensations that were overwhelming him. It was not very long before he started to climax, and he grunted as he ground himself against her, wishing he could push himself deeper and deeper. He wished he could _always_ be buried deep in this gorgeous warm girl, coming like he had never had an orgasm before -- coming harder than he ever had in his life.

Sadly he was forced to pull out of her eventually, but it was nice to feel the way she cuddled up to him after, so he didn't feel too broken up about it.

“That was amazing,” Sansa purred after a while, “I’m so glad we did this.”

Somehow her words brought reality crashing down on his head. 

What had he _done?_

“I’ve wanted this for three years, you know,” she told him, sounding deeply satisfied.

“Don’t - don’t tell me that,” he groaned, half of him feeling quite pleased to think she had been dreaming of him as he had been dreaming of her, the other half feeling horrified because she had been _underage_ for two out of those three years.

“Have you ever thought about me?” she asked.

He couldn’t lie to her. “Sometimes,” he bit out, feeling his face get warm.

“What did you think about?” She was petting his chest and kissing his neck, and it was ridiculously, _inconveniently_ pleasant.

Anger caught hold of him. Anger at himself and anger at her for making him so _weak._

“I thought about what you looked like naked and how much I wanted to fuck every hole on your young body,” he snapped, a hint of a growl in his tone. He sat up, moving away from her and vibrating with tension.

Maybe being crude and disgusting would put her off him.

Maybe she’d leave him alone from now on.

“Even - um - even in the arse?” She sounded a little shocked, but curious, too. It was not what he had expected.

“I’ve thought _especially_ much about fucking you up the arse.” In reality he had only ever rarely thought about doing that to her, and usually only when he was _very_ far gone and nearly coming. But he wanted to appall her. Drive her away.

"Oh," she breathed, looking up at him searchingly. "I've never done that before. Would it hurt?"

"Yes," he told her, feeling rather incredulous. Was the silly girl actually considering it?

"Oh," she said again, more softly than before. "But it would feel good for you?"

"Yes," he repeated, his voice very hoarse.

"Why would it feel good for you if you knew you'd be hurting me?" she asked quietly, fixing him with an unwavering stare.

Stannis couldn’t go through with it. He couldn’t continue act like some sort of horrible male chauvinistic pig to drive her away. That wasn’t who he was. He’d just have to be honest with her. 

“I’m sorry, I was exaggerating. I _have_ fantasised about taking you that way, but I’d never want to hurt you. I just don’t think it’s a good idea for us to see each other again. You’re too young.”

Sansa sat up and gave him an angry, hurt look. “You’re a piece of work,” she said, her voice cool.

He blinked at her for a moment before sitting up, too.

“First you decide to have sex with me, then you assume that I’ll want to do it again, and because you have some sort of complex you decide that we shouldn’t. Then you decide to try to scare me away instead of _talking_ to me and actually respecting me as a person!”

He blanched at her words and realised she was completely right.

“I thought you were different. I thought you weren’t like Joffrey.”

She could have slapped him and it would have stung a lot less.

“I’m not,” he said, “I do respect you.”

“I’ve been handcuffed and gagged and felt more respected than I feel right now,” Sansa said crossing her arms and glaring at him.

Stannis blinked for a moment, sidetracked by the mental image she had just brought forward.

“That’s - um,” he stammered, blinking at her and wondering who had been practising bondage with her.

“You’re not the first older man I’ve been with,” she said archly, “but you said you didn’t want the details, so I’ll spare you.”

Stannis was thinking about changing his mind.

“Perhaps you could give me the big picture?” he suggested, thinking that perhaps it would help him to know what sort of relationships she had been involved in. If she’d already done bondage and things like that with someone else he could hardly be despoiling her.

“I won’t tell you his name or which school he works for - he’d get in trouble - but I had an affair with a teacher.” Sansa spoke in a straightforward way, and did not act like she were revealing some deep dark secret.

Stannis didn’t quite know what to make of it, so he just kept still and silent and waited for Sansa to keep going.

“He taught me a lot,” Sansa said, pursing her lips as if she were trying to keep from smiling, “but we had to break things off eventually. It was never going to be a long term thing, for obvious reasons.”

Stannis nodded, and wondered how she could sit there and act like it was the most normal thing in the world to have even a short term affair with a teacher.

“After that I tried to date a guy my own age. He was cute. He had dimples like he was in a boyband or something. It was good for a while, but he ended up cheating on me so I broke up with him. I ate some ice cream and got over it.” She shrugged, and it was quite apparent that she really was over it.

They were both quiet for a while as Stannis mulled things over.

It was quite clear to him that he owed her an apology. She might be young, but she did not deserve to be treated with disrespect, and he did her no favours by acting like she was an inexperienced child that he was ruining. By the sound of things she’d had two relationships that had probably both lasted more than a month. That was more than he could say.

“I’m sorry, I really didn’t meant to say those things,” he said, hoping she’d be willing to accept his words. “I was angry,” he tried to explain. It seemed a very feeble excuse.

“Why?” she asked, giving him a piercing look. “We had a lovely time together. What’s there to be angry about?”

Stannis rubbed his face. _Lovely time together._ “I shouldn’t have let you visit here,” he sighed. “I should never have touched you.”

She might not be an inexperienced child, but she was still far too good for the likes of him.

“Why not?”

“What do you think your father would do if he found out about this?” Stannis asked, rubbing his face some more and feeling queasy at the idea of Ned’s reaction to all this.

“Why does that matter? And I’m an adult. He has no say in this.” She did not look happy at _all._

“You’re still rather too young for me,” he countered.

“You know what? I don’t have to sit here and listen to this. I’m leaving.” She stood up and started to put her complicated lingerie back on.

“Sansa,” he sighed, feeling rather like he had just messed up on a very grand scale. “I’m sorry. Don’t - don’t leave.”

“Why should I stay? So you can talk down to me some more? So you can _try_ to get it up again and fuck me in the arse?”

Stannis winced. Referencing his difficulties ‘getting it up’ had been a low blow. How on earth had he managed to bollocks this up? Robert would laugh until he passed out if he found out about any of this.

“Please, I - I was very out of line. I’m sorry.” Stannis was not accustomed to apologising. He’d said he was sorry more often in the last ten minutes than he had in the last ten months.

“Give me one good reason to stay,” Sansa said flatly, crossing her arms underneath her breasts. She was wearing her black lacy bra again, and her cleavage was _spectacular._

“Uh,” he said, blinking rapidly and trying to think something other than _breasts, breasts, breasts._

“That’s what I thought,” Sansa said, turning to stride purposefully out of his bedroom, her high heels held loosely in one hand and her nose in the air.

He chased after her, not caring that he was naked.

He found her in the foyer, donning the coat she had dropped nearly as soon as she had entered his apartment.

“I want you to sleep here. I want to make you breakfast,” he said, trying to sound serious even though he was feeling decidedly embarrassed. “Please.”

Sansa shook her head and gave him a look that said: ‘try again.’

“Look I’m - I’m really not very good at all this.” He blew out a loud breath and tried to ignore the fact that he was naked in his foyer. He felt ridiculous. “I never know the right thing to say,” he added, frowning at the floor and furrowing his brow.

“It’s really very simple,” Sansa said, taking a step closer and touching his cheek to get him to look at her. “Either you take responsibility for your desires and allow me to take responsibility for mine, or you keep trying to police me.” She paused and looked around the apartment for a moment as if she were searching for inspiration. “I’ve liked you for a long time and I’m willing to give this a go, but I can’t have you doubting things every three seconds and throwing tantrums.”

Stannis thought it was a bit over the top to call his perfectly normal reaction to an overwhelming situation a _tantrum,_ but his self preservation instincts kicked in before he started to argue over semantics.

“I want to give this a go,” he said, feeling his heart speed up as soon as the words were out of his mouth.

Sansa flashed him that wolfish smile again. “Okay. We can take things _slowly,_ ” she said, lingering over the word he had corrected earlier. “Sleeping over and having breakfast sounds like a good first step.”

“Yes?” It was thrilling and terrifying to think that he might actually get to wake up with her.

“Yeah,” Sansa confirmed with a nod. “So, what will you make for breakfast?” she asked, diffusing the tension in the air as she unbuttoned her coat again.

“What would you like?” he asked, accepting her coat and hanging it up for her. It felt like an absurd thing to do in the nude.

“French toast?”

“I think I could manage that,” he said, mentally going over the contents of his kitchen.

“And sex?” she added, a predatory gleam in her eyes once more.

He cleared his throat, feeling a bit surprised at the bold request, but rather grateful for her willingness to give him another chance. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

 _Am I really going to do this?_ he thought to himself.

“Anything you want,” he said, meeting her eyes steadily.

_Yes._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I read [this fic](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6573673) the other day about Aidan Gillen and Sophie Turner getting it on, and Aidan was a bit too drunk to get it up right away. It made me wonder how Stannis would handle a bit of... difficulty in that area. So if you enjoyed reading about a man having a bit of trouble with his cock, you might want to check that story out! ;)


	4. Giving It a Go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I can't stress this enough - Blue really helped me take this story to the next level. She gives excellent suggestions and is not afraid to tell it how it is. Thank you, Blue! ♥

Stannis was sitting in his office and reading a long memo when it happened. A flash of red outside in the corridor. His office had glass walls, so he could always see who was coming and going. For a wild second he thought Sansa had appeared, but a closer look at the redheaded woman revealed that it was her mother, Catelyn Stark. No doubt there to visit her husband.

Stannis hadn’t seen Sansa since she had left his apartment a week ago, but he had thought of her every day. She had given him her number and urged him to call whenever he felt like seeing her again, but he had been resisting.

He wanted her, and a reckless part of him picked up the phone every night and started to dial her number. The sensible part of him made sure he didn’t actually call, however. It had been foolish of him to think that they’d be able to ‘give it a go’. It had been foolish of him to sleep with her.

Not that they had done all that much sleeping.

The memories of his night with Sansa flooded his brain and caused his cock to spring to life.

 _Seven buggering hells. Not now. I’m at work!_ he thought furiously at the stupid thing.

To make things worse, it appeared that Catelyn had finished visiting Ned and now they were both in the corridor, and both heading right for his door.

Ned knocked and gave him the ‘Are you busy? Can I come in?’ look.

Stannis scowled but jerked his head irritably. Hopefully he wouldn’t have to stand up from his desk; his stupid erection was refusing to go away.

“Catelyn just came by to tell me that Rickon’s got into some sort of trouble at school, we’re about to head over there to talk to the principal. I think I should be back before the meeting with the lot from Astapor, but I thought I’d let you know in case I end up running a bit late.”

It would have made more sense for Ned to let Robert know, but Stannis doubted Robert was at work yet. He rarely deigned to show up on time. If at all.

“Fine,” Stannis said, probably sounding more grumpy than he needed to sound about the matter.

“I should be back soon,” Ned added.

Stannis nodded and watched as the couple left his office, closing the door carefully behind them.

Catelyn’s hair shone in the sunlight that streamed in through the many windows of the building. It was so similar to Sansa’s hair, but not quite the same.

A memory of Sansa’s hair fanned out on his pillows floated lazily to the forefront of his mind.

His cock got even harder.

_Fuck._

Perhaps he should go to his small en suite and try to splash cold water on himself or something?

There was another flash of copper outside in the corridor. He only just caught it out of the corner of one eye, and he forced himself to ignore it. It was probably just Catelyn again.

Maybe if he just waited a little longer his erection would go away on its own?

He just needed to stop thinking about -

“Sansa!”

The door to his office had opened and closed, and Sansa was standing in front of him, wearing a very pretty lilac sundress. Her hair was shining even more beautifully in the sunlight than Catelyn’s had, and her skin looked smooth, healthy and really much too young.

“Hi,” Sansa said, smiling flirtatiously at him.

“What are you doing here?” Stannis asked, his eyes searching the corridor outside his office for witnesses in between stealing glances at Sansa’s long, bare legs, her exposed shoulders, her tempting cleavage, her smirking lips, and her teasing eyes.

“I know we said we’d take it slowly, but you’re moving at a glacial pace. You haven’t even called to invite me to dinner.” She raised an eyebrow. “I thought I’d visit and remind you that you said you’d give us a go.”

Stannis noticed Justin Massey some distance away and started to open his desk drawers in a panic, looking for the little remote that controlled everything in his office. He could use it to dim the lights, close the blinds on the windows and… which button was it again?

“Oh, that’s clever,” Sansa smiled her wolfish smile, admiring the way the glass walls of his office were suddenly frosted. They were no longer see-through, and hopefully Massey wouldn’t think anything of it. Stannis rarely used this feature, but he did do it occasionally. Usually when he took video calls in his office.

“You have to leave,” he said, trying to will his heart to stop pounding. How would he explain her presence in his office if someone saw?

“What? Now that we have all this privacy?” Sansa started walking towards him, joining him on his side of his desk and leaning over to give him a kiss.

He only kissed her back for a few seconds before pulling away, feeling flushed and awkward. He couldn’t do this at his _office._ It was completely inappropriate.

Sansa took a step back, and for a moment Stannis was worried that he had offended her by pulling away. She was smiling, however, so it appeared as if she was not feeling put out with him. His relief that he hadn’t managed to mess up again was short-lived.

“What are you doing?” he asked hoarsely, watching as she raised her arms to fiddle with something behind her neck. 

_Please not the straps of her dress. Please, no…_

Her dress came loose, and she pushed it down over her hips in an eerily familiar way.

No bra. Just like Robert’s study.

Why was there suddenly no air in his office?

Gods. _Tiny_ panties.

He made a noise that he had never heard himself make before. He had never felt this torn about anything. He was at _work,_ and his office door wasn’t locked, and this was a horrifically bad idea, but _seven buggering and bleeding hells… !_

He had seen Sansa unclothed before. When she was sixteen and then again last week. He had even been inside of her. But that did not make him immune to her beauty. If anything, he was more susceptible to it now than ever. She was gorgeous in the sunlight streaming in through the windows to the outside world, and it was clear as day that she was a flawless work of art. He had never thought that the dim lighting of their previous encounters had been playing tricks on him, but if he had thought such a thing, he was now faced with the evidence that she’d look stunning even lit by the harshest and most unforgiving of lights.

… And now the panties were gone.

He felt as his heart work furiously to pump hot blood all around his body, making him sweat and causing him to hear a strange sort of rushing in his ears.

“Sansa,” he choked out, unable to say anything else.

“You really do like seeing me naked, don’t you?” Sansa said, sounding amused. She was looking at the embarrassing bulge below his belt.

The way she phrased her question had him wondering whether she had noticed the bulge in his trousers three years ago, too. He hadn’t thought so at the time, but maybe…

He didn’t know what to say, so obviously the solution was to make a garbled noise that no human would be able to decipher.

“I think you should fuck me right now,” Sansa said, walking up behind him and pulling his chair back a little before sitting down in his lap.

His blood was still rushing in his ears. Somewhere his rational mind was crying that he absolutely could not, should not, _would not_ do this.

“But first I think you should take off a bit of clothing, too,” she added, flashing him another one of those wolfish smiles.

He swallowed and felt more frantically nervous and panicked than he had ever felt while also out of his mind with arousal.

“Someone might come in,” he said, breathing heavily as she loosened his tie and started to unbutton his shirt.

Sansa appeared to think this over for a moment. After a few seconds her eyes lit up with mischief and she pressed herself close, bringing her lips to his ear. “Then we had better be quick,” she whispered.

The next minute was a blur of fabric being all but torn from his body, and he ended up in a complete _state._ His suit jacket was off, his tie was loose around his neck and his shirt was fully open and had been pulled down to expose his left upper arm. His trousers were around his ankles - when did he stand up? - and his boxer briefs had been shoved down to expose his fully erect cock.

He didn’t really care about how any of it had happened because Sansa was touching him right where he wanted her to touch him. She was stroking his cock, and using her grip on it to guide him until he was standing between her spread legs. 

How had she managed to get up on his desk? (Thankfully it was a sturdy redwood and not some flimsy glass creation.) Was she sitting on the Astapor file? _Fuck._ How was she wet? He hadn’t done anything to her.

“I’ve been thinking about having you fuck me on your desk for at least an _hour,_ ” she whispered, tugging him forwards by the cock, encouraging him to rub up against her folds and feel exactly how aroused her thoughts had apparently made her.

He groaned and stopped trying to think. It was time to let go and just _act._

With a grunt he grabbed onto her and thrust himself into her welcoming heat, only getting himself lodged halfway to the hilt because she was _still so fucking tight._ Another firm thrust - she gasped his name in a very gratifying way - and he was home.

Sansa leaned back and placed her hands on the surface of his desk. She was looking at him from beneath hooded eyes, her skin flushed pink. “What are you waiting for?” she asked, tossing her hair and smirking at him.

A strange sort of growling sound escaped him, emanating from deep within his chest. 

He started to move his hips.

Sansa’s legs had been spread wide, but she wrapped them around him as he fucked her, encouraging him and probably also just trying to hold on for some balance. The leather straps of her sandals dug into his backside a little uncomfortably.

They were being much too loud, but Stannis didn’t care. He liked Sansa’s enthusiastic moans.

He was fucking her with ruthless, powerful thrusts, revelling in the friction, the heat, and the silky wet squeeze of her inner walls, and it felt too wonderful for him to care about little things like _noise._

“I didn’t drop my car keys in here by any… uh… chance.”

Stannis was staring straight at the open door of his office, looking Ned Stark right in the eyes as he did his best to still his hips and stop fucking the man’s _daughter._

Ned was standing completely frozen with his mouth open and his eyes growing larger and larger.

Stannis looked down at Sansa and saw that she had gone beet red. She was only leaning back on one hand as the other was covering her mouth. There was a look of shocked horror in her eyes.

“Honey? Did you find them?” Catelyn’s voice was floating from the direction of Ned’s office.

Ned had gone as white as a sheet, but his wife’s voice seemed to work like a cattle prod on him.

“No, they’re not here. Keep looking in my office!” Ned shouted, “I need to talk to Stannis for a minute!” he added, sounding remarkably normal for a man who was probably about to commit murder.

Sansa got to her feet, causing Stannis’ cock to slip out with a wet noise that sounded particularly loud and obscene under the circumstances. She ducked down and picked her dress up, putting it on more quickly than Stannis would have imagined possible. She shot him a furious glare, looking pointedly down at his exposed parts. He shook his temporary paralysis off in order to pull his boxers and his trousers up.

This was a nightmare, right? This wasn’t really happening? This sort of thing did not happen to him. He had gone his entire life without being involved in any sort of scandal.

_Just close your eyes and open them again. It’s a bad dream. It’s all a bad dream._

Ned was still there when Stannis opened his eyes.

“Is anyone going to explain what I just walked in on?” Ned asked, looking from Sansa to Stannis in turn. His voice was raw and a little shell-shocked. His face was still ashen.

“Daddy, I -” Sansa broke off as soon as she began, biting her lip and looking lost.

Stannis knew he needed to take responsibility for his actions. He was a grown man. He could do this.

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” Stannis said, forcing himself to meet Ned’s eyes. “We were being careless and inappropriate. You have my word that I have never before, nor shall I ever again do such a thing in this office.”

Ned blinked at Stannis a few times before taking a step forwards and hissing, “you think I care about _where_ you were having sex with my _nineteen year old daughter?_ ”

“Daddy, please,” Sansa said, holding a hand out as if to stop her father from coming any closer. “He wasn’t doing anything I didn’t want him to do.”

Ned was blinking at Sansa now, opening and closing his mouth in what looked like abject horror.

“We’re dating,” Sansa added, her voice stubborn.

Ned looked at Stannis again, clearly wondering if what Sansa said was true.

Stannis nodded. His body felt numb but also like it was being stabbed by tiny needles all over. He could hear a sort of high-pitched static noise that he was fairly certain was coming from inside his own head.

“Since when?” Ned said faintly, looking around for a chair. He sank into the nearest visitor seat.

“Since the party last week,” Sansa said, crossing her arms protectively over her chest.

“That’s not a very long time.” Ned shot Stannis an accusing look that seemed to ask why he was already fucking Sansa after dating her for only a week. 

Stannis felt himself redden and he looked away from Ned’s grey stare. He had no answers for the man.

“I’m sorry, but it’s really none of your business how long it’s been. I’m an adult and I can live my life the way I want.” Sansa still sounded very stubborn.

Ned closed his eyes and rubbed his face. With a heavy sigh he then got to his feet. “I can’t deal with this right now.” He looked at Sansa, appearing to have aged ten years in the last minute. “Rickon’s had some sort of incident at school that I need to sort out.” Ned turned his head to address Stannis. “If I talk to the front desk they can lend me a company car, can’t they? I can’t seem to find my car keys.”

“Yes, of course,” Stannis hurried to say, feeling absurdly relieved that this horribly awkward conversation was coming to an end.

“Are you going to tell Mum?” Sansa asked, her voice quiet.

“No,” Ned said, giving Sansa a stern look. “The two of your are coming to next Sunday’s family dinner and you’re telling her yourself.”

It was Stannis’ turn to blanch. Sitting through a dinner with Ned and the rest of Sansa’s family after what Ned had witnessed was Stannis’ idea of torture.

“Fine,” Sansa said, a hint of petulance in her tone.

Ned looked at Stannis, obviously expecting him to say something.

Stannis glanced at Sansa and she gave him a grim nod. “Er, yes. Fine.” What was he getting himself into?

Ned nodded too and walked towards the door. He paused before he opened it. “I never would have expected this from you.” He looked at Stannis and Sansa in turn, seemingly addressing them both. His voice held more disappointment than any voice should reasonably be allowed to hold.

Once Ned was gone, leaving Stannis with a knot the size of the Wall in his stomach, he wished Ned had flown into a murderous rage. Stannis knew how to deal with violent temper tantrums. He had grown up with Robert, after all. This horrible feeling of guilt was new, however, and Stannis didn’t know how to make it go away.

“You don’t have to come to dinner,” Sansa said at length, breaking the tense silence.

He looked at her a little blankly, wondering what she meant. He had agreed to go to dinner. Of course he would go.

“I mean, you sort of have to come to dinner if you want to keep dating me, but I’d understand if you wanted to break things off.” Her shoulders were squared and her chin was up, but there was something very sad and vulnerable in her eyes. It was a look he hadn’t seen since Robert’s study.

“I said I’d give us a go, didn’t I?” he rasped out, already steeling himself for what would undoubtedly be the most painful dinner of his life.

When Stannis said something, he _meant_ it.

“Yeah?” Sansa was blinking rapidly, and suddenly her face was transforming in front of his eyes, going from fragile vulnerability to thrilled, hopeful elation. She was no longer the little bird with the fractured wing, nor was she the predatory wolf. She had blossomed in front of his eyes into something wholly unique, strong and new.

He was probably staring at her like some sort of imbecile, but he had never seen anything quite as lovely. Not even when she had been that fragile little bird in Robert’s study where this whole thing began.

“Yes,” he confirmed. “Unless you’ve changed your mind?” he added, raising an eyebrow in challenge.

The wolfish smile returned. 

“Not a chance.”

**The end**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to everyone who commented and gave this weird little story a chance! Love you guys! ♥


End file.
